you can reincarnate as anything. i'll find you as a butterfly's eyespot, a double fisherman's knot, the mechanosensation of hand-holding, a nonce-phoneme that died with its last speaker

you pull open a door to a clockwork universe, gears affecting gears parsecs away. "this is a lie." you pull open another door and escape, riding a beam of light past the lyapunov horizon

cochineal cockatiels are fed nonce phonemes, lifo stack languages, pidgins mid-creolization. their vibrancy is waste-heat, deepening as linguistic entropy is consumed

a language called Wishspeak - for birthday candles, meteors, etc. - in which there is but one grammatical mood, the optative

do you have sanpaku eyes? join the Order of the Reordered Eyes: meet entities with turing-pattern pupils, panoptic torus-eyeballs, hyperbolic kale-surface eyes

al dente is just the beginning. we could have gel pasta, auxetic penne expanding as you bite, unorigami-ing shape-memory tortellini, bingham plastic squeezy noodles

chimerodryads inhabit the Tree of 40 Fruit, their psyches splintered along graft lines and contorted by a pruning knife, their forty mouths screaming through one throat

the mad horticulturist breeds a mega-rose with daedalian thornwork, petals bearing petals bearing petals, all babeling heavenward, scaled by enochian bees

waking up early is cool. but have you ever slept through the rebirth of the universe and woken in the oneirocene with wet yliaster still cooling on your palms

there is a somatic mintiness, as though menthol intercalated between my base pairs. retina scans identify me as peppermint. the coroner will note a body temp of fresh

blooms of mesospheric jellyfish pulse through high-altitude clouds: what we call "noctilucence" is their bioaquescence scattering off ice crystals

the anatomy prof showed us a god's homunculus. it looked like a weather system: his mouth was a country of rain and his tongue was a warm front rolling in

for enrichment, my dmt elf terrarium includes an indra's net jungle gym, a few qualiascopes, lickable color treats, and semantic sugar water changed daily

internet addiction is ancestral gemlust. humans are epigenetically programmed to stare at Liquid Crystal Displays, the exotic mesophase of screens, for hours

"apricotica erotica" depicts aphrodite born not of seafoam but of apricot runoff, heliotropic and risen with wasps on tides of lactones and pheromones

lemon up to advanced lemonautica: taste the sub-lime, peel bernoulli's lemonscate, seek the lemon of philemon. breakthrough the rind to delicious lemon hyperspace

for the universe beautification program, we jackson-pollocked the constellations, crisscrossing starfluid in lévy flights, smoothing the void to low lacunarity

(flirtatiously) let me scoop the spoon's worth of microplastics in your brain, and gently emplace it within my own neural tissue

the rocks breathe and melt and flow, releasing a book into the sea. we read it aloud to children. then the tide folds us shut, and the book lithifies back into stone

a wind both flowing and static stirs the leaves to a psithurism of chronons, and time comes rustling loose from the branches, tumbling down the bough

implants which phosphoresce in response to specific vowel formant frequencies, your lover's voice is glowabsinthe, lightningstone, sun-fibered analemmas

sleeping with a kaleidoscope, glass pipe, and a half ping-pong ball under my pillow "in case the portal opens"

today's beauty tip: grow silky-smooth accretions. give yourself coralface. scrub until your pores become lacunae. think "Green Man but lavender woman"

you're playing waluigi parcheesi, flipping valences aleatorically and collapsing all your luigis into eigen-attractor states of waluigis to win

tried to eat an entheobiscuit but the biscuit attained sentience, metempsychosed through klein bottle crumbworlds, and returned as a biscuit-shaman

diesel-almond-salt ice cream. perfume speedball (stimulant + depressant notes). dry petrichor. "bubblegum fruit punch" but austere. supercool icilin + nutmeg neolignan. freesia chocolate

But woathabout da Moooon, Jeor-gie -- You have to tie your shoes around da Moooon or it won't do-o-o at all no, sir-ee. Best to bendya knee-hinges away from sea waves and roll yourself up into the air on the back of Silamr'ose, the Siren of Triska's Shore. Duon-tcha know shieza flying-hazard Sireen,

this might be controversial but someone needs to say it

experiencing the vestibular equivalent of shepard tones, as if gliding frictionlessly through a nonorientable manifold (but it's okay)

in perfumery news, a chinese perfumer, big buddha, has extracted a tibetan yak shit tincture, which luca turin describes as smooth, brothy-leathery, with hints of dried bananas

the patch code scrambles mythologies. tide-jewels sink in the cup of jamshid, the Dreaming spills out from pandora's box, icarus smashes into bifrost

let's sit in the corner and sniff oils together

oh dear, the disembodied plane of color which floats above my humidifier has acquired a paradoxical depth, as if simultaneously receding and advancing

washy the floodman. sultry the heatman. choky the smogman. creepy the fogman. thirsty the droughtman. smothery the avalancheman. crumbly the cloudman

ogre burning oud in his cave, smearing guerlain's shalimar across his throat, swigging northern rhone syrah for its damson notes and peppery scour

commercial food flavorings are pretty cheap. so far i've recursed flavors and made coffee-flavored coffee, a hyperreal peanut butter, and a "taste of cereal" cereal

i'm doing it again (prowling the shores of northumbria salt-blinded and shaking, searching for my kraken lover)

we engineer an artificial eden, its understory patrolled by lepidoptera drones, orchid timepieces and bromeliad savepoints, lightly hijacked nightjars, and quiet surveillance trees

candyflipping (lsd + mdma) companion perfume. gasoline tangerine. birch tar violet. "stereo lemon" (desynced lemon aldehydes). whisky lactone & azalea alcoholic flowers. lavandin guava

it's been 3 yugas, 358 no-moments, 16 hyper-jiffies, and 8 billion realities since last year

green river (b4), floating tavern (e6), vermilion palace (g3), i renamed the chess coordinates. 1-8: tower, peach orchard, palace, river, gate, tavern, vineyard, pavilion a-h: eastern, green, lucky, ancient, floating, forbidden, vermilion, western

the drift jewels evaporate at your touch, releasing deep sea-song: caleuche chants mutating into siren-speech, splintering into hydra hisses, decaying into pantemporal echoes

taking a big hit but it's an aromachemical mixture designed to hit trpm8 (cooling), trpv1 (burning), trpv3 (warming), and trpa1 (stinging) simultaneously. (don't worry, i have a trp-sitter)

colorful snow, halcyon weather snow, snow that flash-ionizes into supercritical plasma water, a viscoplastic Play-Snoh. loud snow. those are the main "weird snows", i think

galbanum-violet-pear. oxytocin-dosed empathogenic perfume. pink pepper & linden blossoms. topical caffeine in perfume. theta wave enhancer in citrus solvent. champaca cognac

anxious? just eat well, exercise, drink the green vial not the emerald-green vial, dream only of the empty atrium, and submit your metrics to the Department of Continuous Joy

while you sleep, tiny sapiobionts practice pooktre on your dendrites, tend the salt-gardens of your ion gates, and graft noospherules along your brainstem

what should i do if, for example, the perfectly flat plane of impossible colors that's been floating in a fixed point above my computer desk spells out "touch me"?

new study finds you should stop having emotions at least 4 hours before bed. switch to a low-feeling protocol after 6 pm for optimal sleep!

let's learn about the void together